


Meet The Parents

by Shippershape



Series: Bellarke Brought to You by Tumblr [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Drabble, F/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:54:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2693759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippershape/pseuds/Shippershape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot based off the prompt: Clarke hires Actor!Bellamy to play her date at Thanksgiving dinner with her parents. His job is to act like a parents nightmare and make the whole night uncomfortable. Somewhere along the way he becomes a little bit more than a way to get back at her parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet The Parents

"Listen, my mom can be kind of scary. Don’t let it get to you." Clarke told her date as she rang the doorbell at her parents house. He wasn’t listening, too distracted by their surroundings. He had been like that ever since they arrived a few minutes ago, staring around like he’d never seen a garden before. Clarke could acknowledge that her house was a little bigger than most, well okay, a lot bigger, but she’d explained all of this in her e-mail.

"You did not grow up here." Bellamy muttered, tugging on his tie. Glancing over at it, Clarke realized he’d managed to pull it crooked. Her hand automatically reached out to straighten it, that would drive her mom crazy, but then she stopped. Driving her parents crazy was the whole point of this night. They hadn’t stopped hounding her ever since she’d dropped out of med school to pursue her art. Phrases like ‘throwing away your future’ and ‘you’re too young to know what you want’ had been thrown around. That had not been a good night. Clarke hadn’t seen her parents much since then, she’d gotten her own place in the city and avoided their calls. She didn’t have much patience for their complete lack of support. 

Still, she’d known Thanksgiving dinner at their house was mandatory, and instead of fighting it, she’d decided it was an opportunity. So she’d hired a friends brother, an aspiring actor, and formulated a plan. Bellamy was going to attend Thanksgiving dinner as her date, and give her parents a taste of what a bad decision really looked like. By the end of the evening her wanting to be an artist would look inspired in comparison to her choice in boyfriends. 

"Yes, I did. And stopped looking so impressed. You’re supposed to be a rock star. Rock stars are never impressed." Clarke had barely finished speaking when the door swung open. Maya, her parents’ maid, greeted her with a warm smile. Grinning back, Clarke pulled her into a crushing hug. While things hadn’t ended well with her family, Maya had practically raised her, and not being able to see her was the one flaw in Clarke’s stand off with her parents.

"Ah, Clarke. It’s so good to see you." Maya pulled back, beaming at her. Clarke laughed.

"It’s good to see you, too. Bellamy," She turned, and found Bellamy glancing curiously at her. "This is Maya. She practically raised me." He nodded, and seemed to get her signal that this was not one of the people he should be rude to.

"Hi." He stepped forward, offering his hand. "It’s nice to meet you." It was Maya’s turn to be curious.

"You as well." She didn’t ask any questions, although Clarke could see she had many. "Come inside, it’s cold out."

After ushering them inside, Maya took their coats, and her eyebrows shot up after seeing what they were wearing underneath. Clarke wore a black cutout dress, the missing triangular panels at the side showing a lot of skin. It was low cut, not so much that it was completely inappropriate, but enough to be a little scandalous. She had paired them with the black Louboutins that had been a gift from a very fun aunt, and from the way Bellamy was staring at her, the outfit was going to be a big hit with her parents. Not. 

Bellamy looked pretty innocent, all things considered. His black slacks had been provided by Clarke, she was actually doing pretty well for herself as an artist, as had his shirt. It looked like Armani. She’d sent him off with a wad of cash to get clothes for tonight, but hadn’t actually seen what he’d chosen until now. He looked… amazing. Better than that, actually, and Clarke had to tear her eyes off him. Damn. That was not in the plan. They followed Maya into the parlour, and Clarke felt her palms beginning to sweat the moment she caught sight of her mother. She shouldn’t be nervous. Bellamy gave her a sidelong glance, then grabbed her hand. He didn’t mention how clammy it was, something for which Clarke was extremely grateful. 

"Clarke!" Her mother, Abby, stood up, rushing over to throw her arms around her. "Honey it’s so good to see you! And this must be Bellamy." She turned to look at him. Seemed to approve. 

"You have a lovely home, Mrs. Griffin." He said, holding out his hand. She laughed.

"Call me Abby, sweetheart. And thank you." Ignoring the hand he held out, she pulled him into a hug as well. Clarke had to stifle her laughter at the shocked look on his face. As her mother let Bellamy go, she turned back to Clarke. "Oh. That dress is, um, lovely. Aren’t you cold though? I could grab you a throw…" Abby trailed off at look on her daughter’s face. Behind her, Marcus cleared his throat. 

He had been Clarke’s stepfather for years, and in the beginning they had gotten on okay. As she’d gotten older, though, she’d become wildly independent, and they had begun to butt heads. Now their relationship was strained, at best, and that tension had created a huge wedge between Clarke and her mother.

"Clarke." He nodded at her, patted her awkwardly on the arm. Clearly he was remembering the last time they’d spoken. He had called her, chastised her for being foolish, selfish. He’d told her she was immature, and that she couldn’t rely on him to bail her out every time she threw her life away on a whim. She’d hung up on him. 

"Hey, Marcus." She nodded back, feeling ridiculous and formal. She didn’t miss the stuffiness of this place, not at all. It had been home, and that had meant a lot. But since she’d left she was beginning to remember bits and pieces of their house before, the one with her real father. She had been five when he died, and the few memories Clarke had of him were fleeting and faded. Still, she remembered a feeling, one of this inexplicable warmth that came with unconditional love. She hadn’t felt that in this house.

Marcus turned to Bellamy.

“Nice to meet you, son.” He held out his hand. Bellamy took it.

“You too, sir. I’ve heard so much about the two of you.” He winked at Clarke. They had decided to start the evening off relatively easy. The whole thing was supposed to be subtle, she didn’t want her parents suspecting anything.

“Can I get you two some drinks?” Maya had appeared again. Clarke nodded.

“Can I get a Manhattan?”

“Of course. Mr. Blake?” Maya was always more formal when Marcus was around. He didn’t like how close she and Clarke had gotten, and found their familiarity unprofessional. Clarke despised that, but she hadn’t wanted to get Maya in trouble so she’d played along when he was there. Bellamy hesitated.

“Uh, sure. Could I get a whisky? What have you got?”

“Highland Park, Kavalan, Glenlivet.” He looked like he was fighting the urge to whistle. Clarke sighed.

“He’ll have a Kavalan, two fingers, neat.” She answered for him. She wasn’t sure if he’d ever had anything other than Jim or Jack, and knew her whisky well enough. Maya disappeared to the kitchen, and the party of four settled onto the couch. The smell of dinner wafted through, and Clarke’s mouth started to water.

“So.” Marcus cleared his throat. “Bellamy. What do you do?” It was so cliché Clarke wanted to scream. Then again, it was a perfect time to set their plan in motion. She nudged him.

“I’m a musician.” He shrugged. Marcus’ mouth dropped into a thin line.

“Ah. What kind of music do you play?” Abby asked, noticing her husband’s reaction.

“Rock mostly. We started off as a cover band, now we’re doing our own material.” He played the part well, Clarke realized. That cocky nonchalance that all rock musicians seemed to have. She would have bought it if she didn’t know the truth.

“Oh, really.” Abby glanced over at Clarke like she didn’t know what to say. Fighting the urge to laugh, Clarke piped up.

“Yeah, they’re amazing. I met him at a gig downtown.”

“You’ve got work then? I mean, you’re doing well?” Marcus asked, seeming to have gotten his voice back. Bellamy nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve played a few bars downtown. We get free drinks and like ten percent of the door. It’s a good deal.” He bobbed his head a few times for good measure. Clarke, pressing her hand to her mouth, was beginning to wonder how she was going to get through this night without bursting into laughter and blowing their cover. Bellamy draped his arm around her shoulders. That earned a raised eyebrow from her stepfather.

“I…see. I’ve actually got a guitar around here somewhere.” Marcus stood and left the room, returning with a guitar. “I recognize that you’re probably used to electric, but acoustic is all I have.” He handed it to Bellamy. “I’d love to hear you play something.”

Mortified, Clarke shot to her feet. This could blow their cover.

“Marcus!” She hissed. Even if this wasn’t putting their whole story in jeopardy, she would have been angry. It was incredibly rude to put her date on the spot like that. She glanced helplessly over at Bellamy, who didn’t seem fazed in the least.

“Sure.” He shrugged. After picking at the strings, he set to work tuning it, and Clarke watched in fascination. Was he stalling? Then he was playing, actually playing, and her mouth fell open. He was good, actually he was great. She couldn’t believe he knew how to play, how lucky that had been. She also decidedly ignored the flash of heat it sent through her belly when he looked over at her, still strumming.  _Focus_ , she told herself.

“Wow.” Maya had returned with their drinks, and she looked impressed. “That was wonderful.” Marcus shot her a look, and realizing she’d spoken out of turn, Maya bowed her head. She dropped off their drinks then retreated. Clarke seethed.

“Bellamy,” She said, turning toward him. “Here.” She handed him his drink, downing her own. It was mostly for show, she’d spent the last five years drinking her friends under the table, but it was time to get some revenge. He stared at her, and she poked him. Catching on, he downed his own. Her parents blinked at them from across the room.

“Ah, would you like another? Maya!” Abby called, and Maya appeared, whisking away their glasses.

“Huh. That’s good whisky.” Bellamy said, licking his lips. Hypnotized, Clarke had to stop herself from leaning over and running her own tongue across them.  _FOCUS,_ she reminded herself again.

“Oh, yeah. Taiwan.” Clarke said absently. He looked over at her, meeting her stare. She looked away, blushing.

“Are you a big whisky drinker?” Marcus asked. It was a trap, they could all see it. Bellamy shook his head.

“I might be if I could afford this stuff. Jack definitely doesn’t go down as smooth. Gets the job done though.” He smirked. Clarke smiled. Looked like things were picking up. Abby looked concerned. Marcus just looked displeased.

“Uh, dinner is probably almost ready. Why don’t you bring your drinks to the dining room.” Abby said, leading the way. Bellamy wound his arm around Clarke’s waist as they went, and she smiled up at him. They sat across from each other at the table, and she found it strangely difficult to break eye contact.

As dinner progressed, so did Bellamy’s bad boy persona. Soon he was pretending to be buzzed, Clarke had seen him drink at Octavia’s birthday, she knew he could give her a run for her money, and flirting with her mother. The discomfort at the table was obvious. It only grew when the conversation turned to Clarke’s work.

“So, honey, how’s your, um, work?” Abby asked. She was clearly just trying to get Bellay to shut up for a moment. Clarke sighed.

“It’s good. Great, actually. I have nine paintings in the gallery right now, and two others just got sold.” She didn’t mention that the art director had told her she could charge twice what she had been, and that she was making almost as much money now as a surgical resident did. She’d tried that tactic before, it always fell on deaf ears.

“Oh.” For some reason her mother looked disappointed. It suddenly dawned on her that if Clarke failed as an artist she would probably go back to medical school. Enraged by the fact that her own parents had been rooting for her to fail, she fell silent.

“Well. It sounds like you could take a break then. Go back to school.” Marcus suggested. Clarke swallowed a growl.

“I probably could.” She agreed. “I don’t want to, though.”

Marcus frowned.

“You know, if you’re doing so well, maybe you should be paying us back for the five years of medical school we paid for. That you just threw away.” Beside her, Bellamy tensed.

“Sure.” She just shrugged. She’d been planning to do so anyways. She already had at least half of what she owed them. Her parents looked shocked.

“I’m serious.” Marcus pressed, probably expecting her to try and beg out of it.

“I’m making enough. I told you, I’m doing great. Give me six months and you’ll have it.” Her stepfather stared at her.

Silence fell over the table, and Clarke finished her third Manhattan. She could feel the buzz, though she was too angry for it to really set in. She glanced over at Bellamy and was surprised to see how angry he looked. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Are you okay?” Clarke swiveled her head to stare at him in surprise. She was touched.

“I’m fine.” She murmured. It was nothing she wasn’t used to, that much was true.

“Clarke, are you sure I can’t get you a pashmina or something, that dress is awfully revealing.” Abby offered, slashing through the moment Clarke and Bellamy were having.

“That’s it.” Bellamy growled, shoving to his feet. All three of his companions gaped up at him in shock.

“What are you doing?” Clarke hissed, tugging on his sleeve. “Sit down.” He shook his head. Afraid he was about to shout at her parents and completely blow their cover, she sank down in her seat. Beside her, he sank to his knees. Clarke blinked.

“I just can’t hold it in anymore. Clarke Griffin, I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you dancing at that bar. You’re the best thing in my life. You make everything else, the child support and the community service, worth it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” Clarke didn’t know what to do. This had definitely not been in the plan. She knew if she looked up she would see her parents sitting frozen in horror, but she couldn’t look away from Bellamy. There was a twinkle in his eye, and a smirk was peeking through his innocent smile. This was actually… brilliant. She nodded, pressing her hand to her mouth.

“Yeah, of course. Of course I’ll marry you.” He let out a whoop, yanking her to her feet. He kissed her, hard and full on, and for a moment she lost herself in it. It was all for show, she knew that, but he kissed her like she really had promised her whole life to him, and it left her a little breathless when he pulled away.

“Sorry,” He said, gesturing to his pockets. “I didn’t think to get a ring. I was going to wait.” She just shook her head, welling her eyes for effect.

“That’s okay.” She patted him on the chest.

“It’s not okay.” Abby got to her feet, a little shakily. “Clarke, can I speak to you for a moment?” Clarke shook her head.

“Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of my fiancé.” Her mother winced at the word.

“I-” She glanced at her husband for support. He stood.

“You two cannot get married.” Marcus spoke in a flat voice. He looked completely livid, and Clarke had only seen him this way a handful of times. It had scared her then, and even now she felt a shiver flit along her back.

“I’m an adult, Marcus. You don’t get to make those decisions for me. I want to marry Bellamy, and I will.” Clarke said, matching his tone.

“Clarke, you can’t. He’s not-” Abby broke off, eyeing Bellamy apologetically. “I’m sorry. But you are not good enough for her.” Clarke actually did growl that time.

“Excuse me, don’t insult him. Besides, you don’t even know him.” Bellamy moved to speak but Clarke shot him a look. “You should be happy for me. Maybe Bellamy isn’t perfect on paper. Maybe my job isn’t either. But I love them, both of them. I’m finally happy in my life, I finally look forward to getting up in the morning. I didn’t have that here, you two suffocated me. I didn’t want to be a surgeon-”

“But you were so good at it-”

“Yeah, well.” Clarke cut her mother off. “I’m good at this too.” She looked over at her date. “Come on, Bell. Let’s go.” He nodded, and Maya miraculously appeared beside them.

“I’ll get your coats.” Clarke glanced back at her parents, but neither of them moved to stop her. Shaking her head, she followed Maya back to the front door, Bellamy right behind her.

“I know what you’re doing.” Maya said. Clarke snapped her head around to stare at her.

“What’s that?”

“Your parents were wrong. They do love you, though.” She said, offering Clarke her coat. Clarke sighed.

“I know.” She turned to Bellamy. “I’ll be right out.” He glanced curiously between the two women, then shrugged and left.

“You like him.” Maya said. Her eyes were kind, but there was something sly in her smile. Clarke shook her head.

“No, he’s just an actor. It’s not real.” Maya sighed.

“Maybe. You still like him.” Clarke shot her a look and she laughed. Feeling very bittersweet, she hugged Maya goodbye and followed Bellamy out to the car. He was sitting in the passenger seat, looking thoughtful.

“Thanks for tonight.” She said, starting the engine. “We can stop by my place on the way to yours and I’ll grab your cash.” He put a hand on her arm and she looked over at him.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Bellamy-” She protested.

“Seriously. The clothes you got me for this are worth more than my fee times three.” She frowned.

“What is this, pity?” He shook his head.

“No. You don’t need my pity. You can take care of yourself. Your parents will figure that out eventually.” Clarke bit her lip.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“In the meantime, you’re a successful artist with a rockstar fiancé. Life could be worse.” She laughed.

“Maybe I’ll hire you again and we can give them a wedding.” She found the idea of not seeing him again sad for some reason. She tried to push the thought away.

“Or you could just go out with me.” He offered, she shot him a look.

“Are you serious?”

“Look,” He said seriously. “I know I’m not, you know, upper class or whatever. But I think you should give me a shot. Plus, you know I’m great kisser.” Clarke whacked him. She knew this was a bad idea, there was a reason she’d chosen him for tonight, he was a wild card, a bad boy. Still, he was right, she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Besides, she wasn’t her parents, she could care less what he did for a living, how much he made.

“Alright,” She said, looking over at him. “I’ll go out with you.” He grinned at her. The car was quiet for a few minutes then he started to laugh.

“What?” She asked. She hoped he wasn’t choosing now to reveal that he was actually insane.

“Nothing.” He muttered, still chuckling. “I’ve just realized I’m trying to figure out where to take my fiancée on out first date.”


End file.
